What Cannot Be Measured

The danger of a sport filled with metrics -- pace, heart-rate, watts, splits, cadence, T1/T2, etc. -- is that once you understand the data, it's easier to objectively analyze your true performance. The metrics indicate that I finished sixth in my age group out of 20 for the sprint portion of the 11th Annual Desert Triathlon today, good for top 22% of all males and top 13% overall.

However, my individual pace times tell the real story.  And for two out of the three events, I woefully underperformed.  As you know, my swim T-pace has steadily decreased the past several weeks, to the point of 1:55 per 100 yards.  I was most excited to see how much time I'd shave from my overall finish thanks to my new-found swimming prowess.  Today, for my first open water swim of the year, I swam at a 2:14 pace.  Wow.  Worse yet, for the 14-mile bike portion of the triathlon, my pace was 17 mph.  Are you f-ing kidding me?  Granted, I brought my "beater" bike, the one I use on the trainer at home, since I didn't want to risk crashing in the rain on my prized Colnago.  My Scott Speedster is a veritable tank compared to many of the other tri-bikes I was competing against.  (For the record, it also probably saved my life when I crashed last year!) But still, I wouldn't have expected such a decrease in speed.  No excuses either way.  I pedaled hard, but rode slow.

Fortunately, the run was a different story. I've never run a faster three miles, not by a longshot.  My pace was an astonishing 6:36, which is 21 seconds faster than my previous fastest recorded mile time.

In that regard, I can definitely see my training paying off.  That, and the fact that I'm not remotely sore tonight as I'm sitting on my couch typing.

Still, I can't help but feel a little disappointed in my performance.  I realize it's the first race of the year, and I'm definitely happy I placed so high given this was a competition between two huge Southern California triathlon clubs, Los Angeles and San Diego.  On the other hand, I have a lot of training left to do.  A lot of ground to gain.

I think my biggest lesson learned today was to arrive to the race more prepared.  I missed packet pick-up yesterday due to printing the wrong email from an LA Tri Club dispatch and screwing up the cut-off time.  So, I was a frazzled upon arrival, scrambling to put the appropriate tags and stickers on my bike minutes before needing to meet at the starting point.  This left me little time to warm-up, let alone use the restroom for my ritual pre-race jitters. There's a fine line between being relaxed before a race and being careless and unfocused. Before I knew it, I was at the starting point playing with my goggles when the gun went off unexpectedly (no countdown warning?!) to start the swim.  I wasn't even ready!  Being caught off-guard in a sprint triathlon shotgun swim start is not a good way to place high.  As a result, the rest of the swim I felt like I was playing catch-up.  It wasn't until I was halfway finished with the swim (about the 250 meter point) that I started to hit a comfortable T-pace groove.  And by then it was too late.

Fortunately, the race itself wasn't even the highlight of the day, or the weekend. While the best part of the weekend was sharing the experience with Stephanie, a close second was bonding even more with my Fortius Coaching teammates and Twitter buddies (@fittorrent, @chaibot, @rcmcoach).  What a talented and fun bunch!  Each member of the group brings a healthy attitude and friendly spirit to every practice, meeting, party and event.  It's so much better training with people you care about than slogging through the experience solo.  There were so many memorable moments with them: Saturday night at our pre-race meal, cheering wildly for each other during the rainy, cold race, and partying together afterwards for a three-hour Mexican food feast.

In the end, my teammates and Stephanie made the Desert Tri a special experience. Not the metrics themselves.

Funny that the best thing about a race can be the parts you can't measure.

261 days and counting.

More Tech, More Problems

So I have this badass new Garmin 310x watch/supercomputer. And like many impressive pieces of technology, it's not working.  I took my pet supercomputer with me on my tempo time-trial bike ride this morning.  Granted, there was some pilot error to start -- I couldn't remember how to switch between a bike, run and swim workout.  But there are so many damned settings to master that who could blame me?  I settled for a regular "non-denominational" workout with speed, calories and a heart-rate chart monitoring my progress.

The ride itself was uneventful, save for the City of Los Angeles street sweeper truck cleaning the bike path and doing so in reverse while taking up both lanes.  That's not good when you're rounding a corner and traveling more than 20 mph.  Carbon brakes 4tw, as the kiddies say.

As has been the case lately, it took me about 20-25 minutes before I could work my heart-rate up into the zone 3 area (146-154 bpm).  Once I got there, I stayed there for just over 35 minutes.  My power is still slightly down but once the legs got loose I found my rhythm.  Pedaling home through the morning rush-hour traffic was the usual harrowing experience.  Now, I'm proceeding south on Sepulveda Boulevard, turning left on Magnolia Street and using Kester Avenue to get back on my home street just south of Ventura Boulevard.  It's a little out of the way, but it beats being pancaked by a stressed out motorist.

Upon arriving home, I excitedly tried to upload the workout to my laptop and Training Peaks account.  No such luck.  The MyGarmin site didn't recognize my account name, which is strange since it worked last night.  I got an internal server error, and that was that.  Then, I was late to work, and frustrated.  Yay technology!

Oh, and I didn't have that problem with my quaint little Polar 200.  It worked, in all its simplicity.

Few things annoy me more than technology that promises big and under-delivers.  Especially when it's as expensive as the Garmin supercomputer.  I'll hope for more success tomorrow.

PS: I'm supposed to lift weights or do yoga tonight.  But I can't.  I'm going to a Clippers basketball game with my work teammates. (Is that considered self-torture, btw?)  Instead of the second workout, I got a massage from our in-house massage therapist, Abby.  After a long absence, she's back.  Abby is a massage muse, a personal godsend for keeping my body in tip-top shape.  I already feel refreshed and ready for the rest of the week.  I think that counts as a second workout given the health benefit.

265 days and counting.

Half-Day Friday

I took a half-day off from work so I could fit in a long bike ride. I'm sure this doesn't surprise any of you at this point.

Hi, my name is Ryan.  And I'm a triathlaholic.

"Hi, Ryan."

After scheduling the vacation time, the ride itself turned out not to be very long, around 1:50.  But the experience was so different and so refreshing compared to more typical morning rides that I'm quite satisfied I cashed in some holiday time to do it.  Even if it was a solo endeavor.

Despite a fairly persistent head-wind, ride conditions were just about perfect.  Not many cars, temperature around 72, decent cloud cover, and plenty of scenery to enjoy.  Deer were foraging in the brush.  Cows and horses were grazing leisurely, and farmers were meticulously paying attention to their bounties.

The image below was probably my favorite of the day.  It seemed straight out of "Babe," with a dog sternly admonishing a group of cows for doing whatever it is that cows do when they're causing trouble.  I actually stopped the bike to wait for a small piglet to chant, "Bah Ram Ewe!  Your sheep, your fleece, your clan be true!"

No such luck.

The relaxing ride conditions allowed me to enjoy the scenery more. I noticed homes that I've never seen at a certain angle.  Hills with lush green grass that I've overlooked in the past. The valley floor atop Portrero Road, looking like what I'd expect the Texas hill country to be more than suburban Los Angeles.

Everyone should take the opportunity to look up every once in a while on their cycling journey to appreciate everything around them.  Hopefully it won't take you a mid-afternoon weekday jaunt to do it.  Wished I had noticed these things sooner, because it only adds to he beauty of the experience.

Since Coach Gerardo's instructions were to ride however I felt, I took it fairly easy today.  Though my heart-rate climbed to about 156 bpm at the peak of Portrero Road returning from Newbury Park, I typically was riding in the 120-140 bpm range.  I noticed that the first part of my ride was definitely at a slower pace.  The fatigue factor from earlier in the week seemed to come back and bite me in the butt.  Once I descended Portrero Road down towards Lynn Road, I got my legs under me.  That was about 45 minutes into my ride.  I wonder if it takes me longer to warm up now, which would account for my sluggish bike ride on Wednesday when the entire ride lasted the same amount of time.

Now that I'm back at home to enjoy the rest of my afternoon, I can look ahead to a day off of training tomorrow and ultimately the monster that lurks in the distance, at 20-mile run that will culminate with the Firecracker 10k in downtown Los Angeles. I remember when a 10k was a significant fitness achievement in my life.  I literally cried when I completed my first 10k in 2008.  Now, it's a training run.  Damn.

Happy Friday, everyone!  Mine's started off just right.

270 days and counting.

Sluggish

Some words sound just like what they are.  I know there's a grammar term for that, but I don't feel like looking it up.  Ironic statement to follow. Sluggish is one of those words.  If I were an alien from another planet trying to decipher what sluggish meant, I'd think it means to slug through something.  To struggle.  Over-exaggerate.  Over-work.  Or, pop a slug in me, because I'm just about finished.

Any of those terms or phrases would describe my brick workout today.  Whether it was the earlier start (7 a.m.) the semi-cold, dewy morning or just plain fatigue, my legs felt stiff and heavy on the bike.  My brief six-mile time trial portion of the 45-minute spin was close to pathetic, with an average of around 17.5 mph that spanned nearly 21 minutes of pedaling.  Granted, there was more traffic (and therefore slowdowns) than usual.  But c'mon!  Really? Gah.

I quickly transitioned to a 30-minute run, which felt closer to 30 years. Maybe today would have been a good day for music to fire me up a bit.  Honestly though, I don't know if it would have made a difference.  On the positive side, I ran my old jogging route that was my stand-by for all of last year and completed the loop with a much lower heart-rate while maintaining a similar if not greater speed.  So I had that going for me, which was nice.

Still, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was fighting with myself. Almost dragging myself around town, whether it was on the bike or my own two feet.  I can't help but wonder if this is the dreaded "over-training" wall people keep telling me about.  Or, maybe it's just a cold, considering I've been fighting an illness for about a week now without really telling anyone.

Don't worry, mom, it's nothing. I'm warm, well-fed, and yes, I'm wearing a sweater.

Anyway, no west for the weary.  Tomorrow I have a swimming time-trial, which I'm mentally looking forward to.  Physically, I hope I can answer the call.  Following the swim, I'll quickly be transitioning to a 45-minute run featuring five, three-minute hard interval runs in zones 4 and 5a.  That's up to 168 bpm, baby.  I hope I can sustain that rate.  Fortunately, my buddy Dustin will be joining me in Calabasas bright and early.

Well, what I really hope is that I sleep in or through my workout.  That I wake up late, saunter to Jinky's for a massive breakfast, and that I don't do anymore training the rest of the week. Nah, make that the rest of the month!

But I won't give in to that kind of sentiment. That's not my m.o.

Besides, I don't do sluggish.

272 days and counting.

Recovery Day?

I thought Mondays were supposed to be recovery days. Guess that's in the past now.

After a weekend consisting of a 15-mile trail run, 45-minute swim, 53-mile bike ride and a 15-minute transition run, I was back at it again this morning.  Hard.

First, I swam 2,500 yards, highlighted by 15 100s at 2:10 pace.  Slow for many, but after this weekend, it was just fine. Though I did most of the sets between my normal T-pace, 2:05, and 2:10.  Somehow. I'm still trying to figure that part out.

The toughest part of the swim wasn't even physical.  It came in the form of an impromptu lesson from my lane-mate, a very fast swimmer I met named John.  He said I wasn't gliding enough at the end of my stroke, meaning I wasn't leaving my arm extended for long enough.  In addition, though John said I had a strong upper body and my legs were good (really?, Coach Gerardo thinks my kicking sucks), he mentioned my arms were entering the water much sooner than they should be.  And that I was bending my elbows too much. This runs counter to what Gerardo was trying to get me to do, entering the water with my pinkie fingers touching the plane first in order to more effectively engage my hip rotation.

Swimming is such a technical sport, and I honestly have no idea what I'm doing sometimes in the water.  Just when I think I'm improving, I find that I have more bad habits.  I'm a little frustrated, to be honest. Am I getting better, or getting worse?

Fortunately, the second half of my workout, a 45-minute "recovery" run completed this evening on the treadmill, went smoother.  That was actually part of the problem though.  With my elevated heart-rate zone settings, it's more difficult to reach a speed that gives me the workout I need.  For example, when I was really out of shape (2007), I could run at 5 mph and my heart-rate would probably have been around 150 bpm.  Now, I can run at 6.4 on the treadmill and my HR is firm at 140.  So, a recovery run doesn't feel like much of a relaxing recovery at all when I'm dripping with sweat and the treadmill is making that high-pitched whiny noise that sounds like how I typically feel at the end of a workout:"Whhhhyyyyyyy????"

I suppose it's a good problem to have though -- feeling like you're in such good shape that what used to be a full-fledged workout is now considered a "recovery."

Wow.  That was an eye-opening moment for me tonight.

What's next, a 50-mile "recovery" spin?  A "recovery" two-mile swim?

At this point in my Ironman training, nothing surprises me.

274 days and counting.

Racing the Rain

What an ominous-looking day in SoCal. From Balboa Park in Encino to Simi Valley, threatening grey clouds and the wind competed with each other for intimidation supremacy.

Fortunately, the Fortius group started our group ride early enough to avoid the raindrops.  My teammates had a six-hour ride today, or approximately 85 miles.  I was lucky, my assignment was "only" four hours with a brief 15-minute run thrown in at the end.

I accompanied the group to Simi before they turned left at Los Angeles Avenue towards Wood Ranch and Thousand Oaks while I continued straight to visit my parents.

That's where the fun began.

I was so excited to see my folks and surprise them that I forgot to take my keys out of the front door lock.

You can imagine my surprise when I arrived back to Encino two hours later with no keys and eight voice mail messages from my parents.

Fortunately, my dad was nice enough to drive out to drop them off, and I bought him and mom breakfast as a humble, embarrassed thank you.

The part in between though, the actual visit, was great.  I enjoyed a quick snack of berries, chatted about the pseudo-high school reunion I attended last night and terrorized mom with my camera.  I promised I wouldn't show the picture below, but I honestly don't think it's that bad. Do you?

I was supposed to show the latter image instead, since it highlights my mom's real pride and joy: her new kitchen.

Back to the ride.  Despite yesterday's trail run and swim, I felt pretty solid on the bike.  The Santa Susana Pass climb becomes easier and faster each time I make it.  The descents do too.  I was certainly ready for the ride to be over by the time the four hour mark ticked off on my heart-rate monitor watch (NO, not the Garmin.  Soon.  Honestly.). Overall, I was pleased with my performance today.  Door-to-door from Simi to Balboa Park on my return trip, with several traffic stops and two brief snack pauses: one hour, 56 minutes.

I'm definitely ready for a nap now though. Or an Epsom salt bath.  Or a massage.  Or bon-bons.

Just anything but more exercise, OK?

Especially if it's going to rain.

275 days and counting.

A Light Training Day

For all the discipline I showed yesterday, pounding out a running test and lifting amidst an industry conference, today was closer to reality. The event proceedings started at 9 a.m., which didn't leave much time to swim and spin on the stationary bike beforehand.  OK, it could have had I been in the pool by 6:45 a.m.  But, considering I was going to have a quiet night's sleep in a dark hotel room, after a late night of drinks with friends and colleagues, that wasn't going to happen.

Though I managed to get out of bed by 6:20 a.m. I didn't rally to hit the gym until 7:15.  I decided to postpone my swim T-pace test since the hotel pool is 20 yards and has no clock.  (No, I still haven't programmed my Garmin, so the waterproof watch thing is off the table for now!)

Instead, I did spin intervals on the stationary bike for 45 minutes.  Worked up a sweat, burned 300 calories, called it a day.

I feel pretty guilty. I could have found a way to manage the swim if I really wanted to.  But, I'll make up the swim test this weekend so it's no big deal.

Instead, I've enjoyed an informative day of seminars about game design theory, social games design, production methodologies and even a discussion about how the brain works when it comes to states of awareness.  Very cool stuff.

Tomorrow is my off day.  The second this week.  Though today felt like a third off-day.  Heck, I'm not complaining.  I've got nine months left of training.  I'll take an easy week when I can get one.

278 days and counting.

PS: One really cool note.  Last night at an industry party, a former co-worker found me and said he reads the blog.  He added that it's inspired him to run again.  It meant so much to me to hear that kind of feedback!

Rockin Bike TT

Wanna know what a cycling time trial feels like? Listen to this. Loud.

Fast.  Manic.  Intense.  Grinding. Rhythmic.  Exhilarating.

This overlooked Smashing Pumpkins tune popped into my iPod shuffle mode playlist en route to work after a highly satisfactory cycling time trial early this morning.

I smiled when it did.  Yep, that's what a cycling time trial feels like, all right.

And a solid time trial it was.  True, the course was perhaps a little flatter and the weather was warmer than my last TT.  But progress is progress, right?  I improved by what appears to be slightly more than a full mile-per-hour, going from just over 20 mph to 21.3 mph.  My heart-rate beats per minute dropped ever so slightly, from 164 to a 163 average.  And I covered more ground in 20 minutes, 6.7 miles to 7.1 miles.  This was after another poor night's sleep and sore quads from the weekend's activities.

No, it's not a true apples-to-apples comparison between time trials.  Still, I'm going to chalk up today's workout to tangible progress.

Now, I pack my bags for a business trip to Las Vegas.  I'll be gone tomorrow through Friday, but intend to blog whenever I can find a moment.  And I'll cram a workout or two in as well.  I've got run and swim time trials to schedule, though there's no lap pool at the hotel. I may have to wait until next week for the swim, though I'm most excited to see the progress I've made in the water considering my recent 100-yard T-pace times.

I wish I had more energy to write longer tonight.  But I'm just beat.  I need a good night's sleep desperately.  Ironically, maybe I'll have to visit Sin City to get it.

280 days and counting.

The Music in My Head

	Jane's Addiction - Three Days .mp3
	Found at bee mp3 search engine

I've been toying with the idea of adding "soundtracks" to my blogs, to give the emotion behind them a little more dimension.  This is my first post where I'm going to try it out.  Please consider downloading the free tune and listening to it while  and after reading.  I hope it adds something to the experience.  Let me know what you think.

Today, members of the Fortius team (Richard, Paul, Mike, Cynthie and Coach Gerardo) ramped up our base cycling training with a 5.5-hour trek.  We pedaled from Calabasas Commons to the Pacific Ocean and back via Mulholland Road, climbing more than 4,200 feet along the way.  I burned 3,000 calories during the trip.

When you're cycling for that long, a lot can run through your head.  Sometimes, since I don't use an iPod while cycling, I play a mental soundtrack that keeps me fired up and going strong.  Today, I focused on my favorite song of all-time, "Three Days" by Jane's Addiction.  To me, it conveys such a wide range of emotions: Serenity, chaos, anger, exhilaration, bewilderment.  The energy in the music is infectious.  I dare you not to be ready to take on the world after listening to it.

"Three Days" matched how today's ride felt.  The climbs were persistent and intensity-filled.  The downhills were wild, occasionally hairy with traffic in Malibu Canyon, and the views were magnificent.  The weather really cooperated today,too, though I had to shed a thermal jacket, my headband and arm warmers along the way after a chilly start.

And, like the length of "Three Days", the ride was seemingly never-ending.  There's something about cycling for close to three hours and realizing you're only about halfway done.  And that's when you're staring at the glistening Pacific Ocean knowing you need to climb Mulholland Road all the way back to the Valley before the final stretch occurs.  It's hard to appreciate the beauty of the sea when all you can think of is a nine-mile climb that awaits.  But then, at the top of the mountain, the mood changes.  And the frantic downhill rocket ride ensues.

In my head, the song and the road were playing the same tune -- maddening, orchestrated chaos.  The beat served as both taskmaster and pacemaker, imploring me to pedal a little harder for a little longer.

And it worked.  I had a great ride, with enough left in my fuel tank to finish strong and avoid cramping up.

We'll see what pops into my head tomorrow for my 2.75-hour run and 3,200-yard swim that follows.

Hopefully not the theme from Titanic.

283 days and counting.

The Bar is Rising

Tomorrow, a new phase of training begins. It lurks in the form of a 5.5-hour bike ride starting in Calabasas at 8 a.m.  Hill climbs.  Lots of long hill climbs in the curvy backroads of Malibu Canyon.  And the intensity only rises further the next day.  Sunday calls for 2.75 hours of hilly trail running, followed by 3,200 yards of swimming.  That's close to two miles of swimming, for those keeping score.  By far the most I've ever swam in one session.

Hey, Coach, my Ironman isn't until November!  What's the deal, yo?  Is this your idea of a Valentine's Day gift?  (Good, because it's the only one I'm getting, apparently!)

Well, I suppose it's time.  I can tell I'm now comfortable at this current level of training intensity.  That's an accomplishment on its own since I recall just a few weeks ago how hard the transition was to this intensity level.  Blogging daily allows me to maintain this kind of perspective and celebrate a moment that otherwise might have gone unrealized.  So, I lift a virtual glass to, well, myself!

<Clink!>

L'Chaim!

Now, there's only one thing left to do: Raise the bar higher.  Such is the life of an Ironman-in-training.

284 days and counting.

PS: I'd like to briefly comment on the death of the Georgian luge competitor at the Vancouver Winter Olympics this morning.  Putting the obvious negligent safety issues aside for a moment, this young man died doing what he loved.  Competing.  On a global stage.  Competing at something he trained his entire young life for. I am truly sad for him, his family, friends and countrymen.  Yet at the same time, I can think of no better way to have a life cut short if it must.

If something catastrophic ever happens to me while training for the Ironman, I will have gone out on my terms.  I can live with that.

Rest easy, Nodar.